grace grits and gardening

ramblings from an arkansas farm girl

Sisters

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Every girl needs a sister.

Yesterday was my little sister’s birthday. HOW did she get so old so soon? Staci’s 47 which means Lesa (our sister-cousin) will be 48 next week, and I am holding at 2 Score and 9.75 until July. I’m thinking 5, 6 and 7 years old was waaaay cuter.

Time flies. 

Me feeding Staci.
Staci was my first, best friend. Although when the stork brought her, I was a bit skeptical about our future relationship. She stole my thunder. The new cute baby syndrome ran rampant in our house. It was annoying.
Cotton Pageant 1970
We were thrilled.
I think Momma must have always wanted twins? For years, she dressed us like twinkies in handmade outfits. It was SOOOOO embarrassing. Especially when she made us model her home sewn frocks in the Cotton Pageant. We were never meant for the runway. Staci and I were much more comfortable playing with our matchbox cars in the dirt field behind our house. 
This picture of our Cotton Pageant experience was in the newspaper, and it speaks volumes. Staci, at 5 years old, is shooting daggers at the cameraman with those expressive eyes. Yet she has her hands sweetly clasped, as if she’s just biding her time before having a total all-out hissy fit. I’m standing uncomfortably like I’m posing for an awkward school picture. My arms and legs are braced as I wait for the perfect opportunity to vault off the stage and run all the way home from Burdette. I prayed NONE of my 2nd grade friends saw this picture in The Osceola Times.  

Staci had a Thomas Tate Temper when she was little. She threw tantrums at Big Star on more than one occasion, flinging herself to the nasty sticky floor, flailing her arms and legs. I never knew what triggered these meltdowns – maybe she was protesting our lack of store-bought outfits. Momma, remaining cool and calm, somehow completely ignored these outbursts. She lightly stepped right over her, grabbed a basket and strolled down the grocery aisle shopping for supper. I’m sure inside she wanted to slam a cocktail. I just stared at both of them,  completely mortified.
Thankfully Staci outgrew those tantrums pretty quickly. We continue to have hilarious adventures together, and nothing much horrifies either one of us anymore. Except maybe our 1980s big hair photos. 
HAIR.

“Big sisters are the crab grass in the lawn of life.” – Peanuts, Linus Van Pelt


Musical Pairings:


Rod Stewart, “Forever Young”
The Beatles, “In My Life”


Johnny Cash: Restoration of Childhood Home, Dyess, Arkansas

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An amazing number of famous people came from the tiny little corner of Northeast Arkansas that I call home. Parhaps Mark Twain’s mighty Mississippi was an inspiration. Or maybe the smell of crop defoliant whips up the creative juices. Possibly the most notable resident of Mississippi County was Johnny Cash who rose from modest roots to become one of the most influential musicians of the twentieth century.

Arkansas State University now owns the Cash home, and restoration efforts are underway. Fans will soon be able to visit his childhood home in Dyess, Arkansas, a small town located along the Arkansas Delta Byways. 
The community of Dyess itself is history lesson, planned as part of President Franklin Roosevelt’s New Deal Program. Five hundred poverty-stricken farm families were given a new start with a twenty or forty acre farm, a five-room, white-washed farmhouse, adjacent barn, outhouse, and chicken coop. Only white families of “good moral background” were selected. Each farmer drew an initial advance to purchase the property along with a mule, cow, groceries and supplies until the first year’s crop came in, at which time it was paid back. In three years’ time, the farmer received the deed to the house and land. The Cash family got in on this new deal.

The forty acre farm immediately adjacent to the Johnny Cash place is owned by my good moral farm family (on the other side of Johnny Cash’s temporary chain link fence). We didn’t get the land from President Roosevelt. Daddy bought it outright years ago from an attorney who took the land in trade for legal fees. 

In addition to the home restoration, Arkansas State has plans to construct a museum and renovate much of the town of Dyess. The restoration buzz continues to grow. I imagine convoys of people making this pilgrimage to a place we Mississippi County residents knew was special all along.

These are exciting times for Northeast Arkansas!

talya
Grace Grits & Gardening

Land spreading out so far and wide….

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Daddy was a John Deere man. Never did he fritter away money on blue or red equipment – no Case or International Harvesters and certainly no Kobotas. Our lawn mower – which the Tate girls commandeered every weekend – was a John Deere. We even had John Deere bicycles. Fancy schmancy. We were green and yellow John Deere people all the way. Other brands and colors were only much slower imitations.

Tate Farm

My sister and I grew up on that equipment, spending entire days climbing on the gargantuan combines and dirty tractors out at the shop on the home place. If a piece of farm equipment sat idle, maybe because the fields were too muddy to plow or it was just the wrong season, we would claim that cotton picker or combine as our own for the entire afternoon. It became our submarine. Always a submarine – never an airplane or boat or tractor. We climbed all over the surface, up into the rafters of the shop, swinging from one side to the top. Amazingly, we never broke any bones or farm implements. But, if we could have figured out how to actually start our submarine, we would have driven it over to Little River. 


Daddy hired several families from south Texas each summer to chop cotton. One summer, Dallas equipped us with hoes, and we chopped with them. We were hoe’rs.  I know they must have been absolutely thrilled to have us in their midst. They were serious about their work, and quick. Speaking no English – at least not to us –  they were covered head to toe in long sleeve work shirts, boots, jeans and wide brimmed straw hats. It was freakin hot, and we thought that was idiotic. Laughing and singing to our portable radio, we wore our bikini tops and Daisy Dukes. We didn’t even wear hats – we wanted those natural highlights you only get from the sun.

We quickly identified the low spot with standing water at mid-field as our natural turning around spot. It certainly wasn’t our fault there was a huge area in the field with standing water – that was totally an act of God. So my sister and I chopped to the water, turned around and chopped back to the highway. The crazy farm hands went around the water and then continued chopping all the way to the ditch. We could barely see that ditch on the horizon! Daddy was not too thrilled with our progress – evidently we were slow hoe’rs. He should have paid us per row instead of per hour, but a deal was a deal. I’m pretty sure we never got that deal again. 

Mississippi County Cotton
The cotton that survived was harvested in the fall. This was one of our absolute favorite times because we loved to tromp cotton. We parked our submarines and spent every moment in the cotton trailers. There was nothing like seeing a full John Deere picker opening along side a trailer and dumping a giant load of freshly picked warm cotton. Sometimes we stood underneath the basket while the cotton was emptied on us like popcorn, then we climbed into the basket high up in the air to make sure there was no cotton clinging inside. Once it was dumped, our ‘job’ was to tromp it. We stomped it down, packing the corners of the trailer so that it would hold more. As soon as the picker returned to the field, we began digging tunnels in the cotton – long, deep, hot tunnels – totally un-tromping it. At dark, we went home exhausted, with cotton lint covering our clothes and burs in our hair. It was the mark of a great day.

I love the smell of freshly picked cotton. It has a very distinct smell that cannot be duplicated. If you’ve picked it, tromped it, turned head over heels in it, or napped in it, then you know. And you’ll always remember. It’s a sweet, clean, damp smell. It smells like cotton.


talya


Musical Pairings:


Creedance Clearwater Revival, “Cotton Fields”
Buddy Jewell, “Sweet Southern Comfort”

Food. Farm. Garden. Life.

THANKS FOR READING!